Suspension of Disbelief
by squelchything
Summary: Charlie sees the magic. At any rate, he sees something, and maybe that's good enough.


Charlie was very carefully not saying _What's the point of owning a sexy blue convertible if you're going to sit at ten below the limit all the time?_ That was one of the things Don had more than once told him never to say to a girlfriend, generally adding a rider insulting Charlie's own driving skills.

Anyway, he had the impression that he'd already managed to irritate Amita over the case, and he wasn't quite sure how. _Take it apart and see how it works_ was at the root of the scientific impulse, after all, and he would have expected Amita and Larry of all people to see that. Instead, Larry had gone all mystic over what was essentially a clever, pretty toy, and Amita was being gently tolerant, which was unexpectedly stinging. Amita usually didn't have to make those sorts of allowances, because she thought the same way he did, and Charlie had gotten used to it. Gotten spoiled.

He didn't see why he was being treated like he had dyscalculia or something for choosing not to allow himself to be taken in. Dad had said something about "the willing suspension of disbelief" when Charlie had talked to him about it. That was all very well, but if he hadn't unsuspended Nikki's disbelief, the team would have had to arrest a box of mirrors. Charlie smiled a little at the thought, remembering Don cracking up as he told Charlie about it.

And it had been _fun_, reverse-engineering Aquarius. How could anyone not want the kick of spotting the trick? Like that book of optical illusions someone had given Don when they were kids, which had driven Don crazy until the two of them had swiped Dad's parallel rulers and protractors one evening and gone through it from end to end. Come to think of it, Don hadn't been proclaiming the joys of voluntary delusion either. Feeling a little comforted, Charlie settled back to contemplate, on the one hand, Lainger of MIT's latest invariant subspace effort, and on the other, that cute thing Amita did with her tongue every time she braked.

Amita managed to get parked within striking distance of Hollywood Boulevard. Talk about magic, some day he'd have to analyse how she managed it. The empty store smelled of plaster dust and copper, and had the melancholy, dead feel that empty construction sites had always had for Charlie. And this building would never come to life the way it had been intended, because Talma had died here. Charlie shivered a little at the thought of drowning, water filling mouth and nose and lungs—but at least she'd been unconscious, hadn't felt herself choking, hadn't been aware of her brain smothering for lack of oxygen. He squeezed Amita's warm hand a little.

"This is hardly a romantic spot," he protested as she led him back towards Aquarius.

"It's not a romantic spot, it's a learning spot," Amita said cheerfully. "Help me with this."

"Amita—" But with _help me with this_ she'd hit a home run. He'd never been able to resist that tone, not even back when she was doing her Master's and teasing him for hints.

Amita picked up the harness and began strapping herself into it. "I want to show you what I see in magic."

"I see a harness," Charlie said, deciding to leave out the surroundings for the time being.

"Yes," Amita said, grinning. "Go over there to the switchboard."

Charlie smiled back and capitulated. "Are we sure this is safe?" he asked, illogically. Even though there was no water and no imprisoning glass, he didn't like the thought of Amita trusting herself to the thing.

"We know the design better than anybody," Amita pointed out. "Flip switch seven."

Charlie nodded acknowledgement to her point and flipped the switch; the trapdoor sprang open. Amita scrambled up to straddle it.

"Eight," she called, and started to rise into the air as the harness lifted her. _Oh, I see where this is going._, Charlie thought.

"Nine...ten!" Amita laughed triumphantly as the petals fountained up around her, tumbling in the vortex, catching in her hair. She raised her arms, pirouetting in midair, and Charlie couldn't help laughing back at her.

"Do you see it yet?" she called. "It's not any less wonderful because you know the secret! Are the stars any less beautiful because you know what they are?"

"_Oh_." Watching her, something went _click_ in Charlie's head, too nebulous to go into words, or even into math. "See, if Larry'd said that, instead of going all woo over Venus descending into the waves..."

Amita laughed again, tossing her hair back. "That's our Larry."

"You gonna come down today?" Charlie said. "Cos when you do, I'm gonna kiss you."

"Only kiss?" Amita teased.

"Well, in the interest of public decency—" Charlie grinned. "But get me a door that locks, and a roof—"

She pulled her arms in, like a skater, angular momentum conserved. "_Do_ you see it?" she called again.

He saw Amita, rotating gently, poised at the centre of balancing forces, the rose petals fluid around her, and she was laughing, and she was beautiful.


End file.
